Dearest Enemy
by Xenexian
Summary: Welcome to the 51st annual Hunger Games. Step right up, because your name is about to be called at the Reaping and you are going to enter an arena and fight to the death. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour. OC fanfiction, the year after Haymitch's Games. R&R!
1. You're not a name, you're just a face

**A/N:** Yes, I know. Another Fanfiction. This one is about _'The Hunger Games'_ though, which makes it awesome fun to write. I read the trilogy a few years ago in the form of library books and loved them, but then they exploded into a movie and got a gazillion fans and I couldn't find the books anywhere. So on my birthday, I used some of my money to buy the trilogy so I would never have to borrow them again. And then I saw the film, WHICH WAS AMAZING! So yeah, here we go. Warning: the chapters will not be as long as in '_All The Right Reasons_', mainly because I'm lazy lol.

**Dedications:** To _**zoesalvatore**_ for taking me to see the film! Seriously, you are awesome! Also, to all the guys over at 'The Cornucopia' – that's Sasha, Marieanne, Mina, Ashleigh, Zoe, Leila and Laurie. You guys have been brilliant over there!

**Disclaimer:** I do not, nor will I ever own _'The Hunger Games'_. Tis sad. Also, this fanfiction is named after a line in a song called 'Contagious Chemistry' by You Me At Six.

**Chapter One  
**_**You're not a name you're just a face  
**_**- 'Contagious Chemistry', You Me At Six**

"Ashby! Ashby, Ashby!"

I wind the net that I am just about to spin out across the miniature ocean in North Square around my wrist as I look out across to see my best friend Ima calling to me. Her golden eyes are bright and wide, shining with tears, but the smile on her tanned face settles my nerves somewhat: she isn't upset. Her brown hair is flyaway, moving slightly in the salty breeze that is omnipresent in District Four, the fishing District of the great country of Panem.

"Ima," I call back, standing on my small platform to talk to her. "What is it? What's going on?"

"Katti is in labour!" she called back, bouncing up and down in her excitement. I almost fall into the water in shock from what she has just said. Katti is her older sister and although she is due to give birth at any time, none of us expected it to be today. Not the day of the Reaping.

I give a short whistle and my platform moves towards the pier where Ima is standing, not fast enough in my opinion. I dump my net in the barrel with my name on it and together we run back across the town towards where Ima's sister lives.

There are three men outside the door in white uniforms, and we curtsey respectfully before we enter the room. They are Peacekeepers, the ones who police the District and stop crime from happening. I remember once when an elderly man who we all called Salmon was caught trying to steal three flatfish to try to feed his eight grandchildren. The Peacekeepers shot him and then hung his head from the Justice Building. They said it was to set an example.

Whatever their motives, none of us hesitate before doing as they say.

Katti, it turns out, has just delivered a baby boy, who's crop of golden hair is already growing. Alden, Katti's husband, is standing beside mother and child, beaming, his work uniform still on as mine is.

"Congratulations, Katti," I say, moving forwards to peer at the child. His eyes are drifting shut, tired as all babies are. He is adorable. "What are you going to call him?"

Katti and Alden look at eachother and Alden smiles gently. "We are thinking of Finnick,"

Ima sighs from behind me, smiling as she approaches her new nephew. "It is a beautiful name," she says. I nod in agreement and then, on reflex, check the time from the clock on the mantelpiece. It is time to go.

"We had better be going, Katti. We'll see you later," I say, moving towards the door as Ima kisses Finnick goodbye. We all know that seeing them later might not happen. Nobody comments on it; everybody refuses to believe that they could be chosen.

The walk through the town towards the Justice Building takes us ten minutes, and I am glad that we won't have to stop at my house to see my father; we would be late, and that would not be good at all. I know that he will already be there, watching from the audience.

We are forced to stop at the steps of the main square to have our names taken before we move on to take our places.

The square is divided into small roped off areas where the different ages are; Ima and I move to stand with the other seventeen year-old girls. From where we stand, waiting impatiently, we can just about see the glass ball filled with hundreds of female names. Mine is in there thirteen times this year. It is nowhere near as many as some of the worse-off people in my District, but it is still thirteen too many times for me to be comfortable with.

The others are already there, standing in place, ready for the Reaping. Hoping and praying that someone else's name will be called out. Refusing to believe otherwise. Ima and I have already spoken about it in hushed whispers, away from the adults who don't like to hear it; both of us are hoping and praying, just like everyone else. Praying that for two Reapings, some other girl's name will be called out. Because by that time, we will be nineteen, and then we will be too old to be named as Tribute for District Four.

Tani, the woman who calls out the names from the Reapings and then helps you alongside your mentors before you go into the Arena, taps the microphone, indicating that things are ready to go and that the Reaping for this years Games are about to begin. An unnatural hush falls over District Four as the adults hope their children aren't called, the children hope they aren't called, and those without children take bets as to who is most likely to be named Tribute.

"Welcome everybody! Welcome to the fifty-first annual hunger Games!" Tani exclaims excitedly. Ima and I share a look with eachother silently before continuing. It is a well known fact around District Four that nobody liked Tani Corse. "My, my, it is wonderful to be back here in District Four with you all, as it always is," she says, like she always does. Her lilac eyes sweep the crowd in front of her and she lets out a small giggle that makes me want to strangle her with the cord off of the microphone that she is talking into. "I had some of your flatfish yesterday on the train, and I must say that your work here is getting better and better!" She beams around at us. She nods to a peacekeeper who presses a button on his remote. On a large white screen hung at the side of the Justice Building, a film begins to play, depicting the story of Panem and the uprising which resulted in District Thirteen being destroyed.

"Now let us get down to business!" she suddenly says when the film is finished, stepping up to the first Reaping Ball. "Let's see about the gorgeous girls." Her claw-like hand fishes around in the bowl for a moment and all I can see is thirteen random strips of paper that represent how many times my name is in there. Her bone-white fingers close on one of them and everything goes silent in the town. Slowly, as if it was a dream, Tani pulls the paper out of the ball completely and steps over to the microphone to announce whose name is on that paper.

Before she even unfolds the paper, I know that it is me. She picked one of the pieces of paper that I was looking at; I know that it is unreasonable and stupid, and I will feel foolish when Ima, my father and I go back to our house in the evening, but I have a feeling of foreboding that consumes me.

Tani unfolds the paper and her cold, lilac eyes scan the square for a moment before she speaks.

"Ashby Ketcalfe."

Ima starts to hyperventilate beside me and I force Lara, a girl from our class at school, to hold her back as I step through the crowd of seventeen year-old girls around us. My father's face pops out through the crowd and I make eye contact with him for a second before I am in the open. Two Peacekeepers step down to escort me onstage.

Each step seems like a mountain to climb, and I force myself to keep on moving upwards. If I stopped, I would never move again and I knew it. Tani extends a hand and pulls me to stand on her right hand side. Ima is on the floor, crying silently. Nobody seems to know what to do to comfort her, but its like I can't feel anything. I feel a little empty, like I am watching someone else's life instead of living out my own.

"And now for the boys," Tani chirps, pulling my attention over to her, again, at the front of the stage once more. She digs her hand in the boy's Reaping Ball for a second (it seems to take much less time to draw out the male Tribute's name than it did for mine) and pulls out another slip of paper. Stepping back, she unfolds it and reads out the boy's name. Marshall Danforth.

I know Marshall Danforth; he is in my team for fishing, and we learned to swim together when we were toddlers. He is seventeen and has short, dark hair and a build that could only be described as Career-ish. Marshall steps up onto the stage and stops on Tani's left hand side, determinedly looking away from me. I understand; there could be a time in the Arena where he would have to kill me, or I him. But Ima has always said that I have a morbid curiosity.

"And now, before we allow our Tributes some time to celebrate, I will introduce this year's mentors!" Tani announces. Being District Four, our Tributes have won a fair few times. Most of our Tributes in the past have become Careers, but there have been the odd one or two who have won it of their own accord, or with a different alliance.

Myself, I have absolutely no intention of joining sides with the Careers. It's a decision that I have always been sure of, and there is no way that I will be changing that decision now that I will be going into the Arena myself. Whatever Marshall Danforth does is up to him. He's certainly big enough to get away with being a Career.

"This year it will be James Wellbeck and Carolyn Highgate. If you will cast your minds back, Mr Wellbeck won the forty-ninth Hunger Games and Miss Highgate won the fortieth Games!" Tani continues, as the two mentors come onstage. There is a polite smattering of applause and they smile and wave.

The rest of Tani's speech is drowned out as my mind wanders around. The next thing I know, two Peacekeepers are marching my up the steps of the Justice Building and I am ushered into a large room with beautiful furniture and what I am sure is gold-plated wallpaper.

The door handle turns and in steps my father with Ima, who is still crying silently, tears trekking down her cheeks. Her eyes are puffy and red and my father looks half like he wants to murder somebody (my stomach jolts as I think this; that will be my job in the Arena) and half like he wants to beg the Peacekeepers to let me go.

"We have two minutes only," my father says in a gruff voice, coming forward. He hands me a rope bracelet with a few wooden beads threaded into it. Painted intricately onto each bead is my family's insignia. I understand immediately that it was Ima who made it - she always has been very artistic. It's as ingenious as it is beautiful; the bracelet allows me both to remember my father and my family, but also to remember my best friend. I allow Ima to tie it around my left wrist and wipe away a few of her tears.

"Ashby, your best chance in that Arena is to use your knives. You might be good with the nets and the spears here, but there will be different circumstances in that Arena. You will not be firing a spear at a fish in some water: you will be firing a spear at a human being in the same circumstances as yourself through air. You know that you are good with your knives, so go with that method and you should be fine.

"Secondly, I have spoken with Marshall's mother and father. They say that he would never hesitate to ally himself with you, but don't put all your trust in that. He could kill you with his eyes closed.

"Thirdly, be smart in there, especially in Training. You need to learn about what to eat and what not to eat, how to make fire, how to make shelter. Learn that and then use your private Training sessions to practice with your knives."

My father scrutinises me before pulling me in for a hug. Ima steps up, her face determined.

"I don't care what you have to do in there, Ashby Ketcalfe, but you had just better make it home." she says fiercely, and I am surprised at her. She is usually so opposed to all things violent and is terribly squeamish. But no-one, not even me, could doubt the force behind her words.

I nod and hug them both.

"I love you and if I don't win, remember-" I begin as two Peacekeepers enter the room.

"You will win!" my father shouts as he is forced to leave the room. I feel tears threaten to fall, but resist. There is no way that I will cry, not today.

The Peacekeepers push me towards the back door of the Justice Building and I am ushered onto the train that all of the Tributes board. I enter the main carriage to find James Wellbeck, one of my mentors, sitting in an armchair. His face, usually so amused and open around the District, is stony. He starts as I enter and he looks up at me carefully.

"Welcome to the Tributes train, Ashby Ketcalfe," he says dryly. "There's a room for all of us. I would say go and claim one, but Tani's already allocated each of us a room, and she's a bit OCD about things like that."

"Thanks for the heads up," I reply, not too sure what else I could say to him. Sure, he's my mentor and I suppose I'd better get used to him, but he is James Wellbeck: I can remember him at school, before he went into the Arena two years ago. He was the most popular boy there, as well as the best looking; as it is, he's only twenty now, and his good looks have only gotten better. He was one of those Tributes that sided with the Careers, but he didn't stay with them for long - he cut away from them, killing two Careers with knives (it is still one of the most spectacular scenes I can remember from the Games, being good at throwing knives myself - it stuck in my mind).

Marshall and Carolyn enter the room and sit down in the armchairs around James, who is still watching me as I take my time walking towards them and sitting down myself.

**A/N:** So there's the first chapter. I thought I'd add a new Fanfiction up, just to get myself started, because I'm currently on study leave (YAYS!) and I'll have more time for writing in July and August. Keep an eye out for new chapters and oneshots and such!

-Lauren


	2. Reflection of my enemies

**A/N: **Well, I'm being very quick in updating right now, as you can tell. I had my last exam this morning, so FREEDOM! Plus, reading **Z. L. Haywood**'s amazing new Hunger Games fic game me inspiration; read it!

**Dedication: **Dedicated to my mom (for proofreading and generally being awesome!), _**seafeather-ono**_ (thanks for you review! Yeah, my first chapters are generally short. I'm trying to extend them, though, as you can see from this chapter) and _**Z. L. Haywood** _(thanks! Yours is great too! Now update -_-). Thanks, guys!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Hunger Games, they belong to Suzanne Collins, unfortunately. I do, however, own everyone in this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

_**The reflection of my enemies**_

**- 'Golden', Fall Out Boy**

The chairs are comfortable, a luxury that we couldn't always get around District Four. The interior of the carriage is even more luxurious - grey and silver walls with light fabrics hanging from them, swaying chandeliers that hang from the ceilings and furniture everywhere. Carolyn relaxes in her armchair, surveying both Marshall and I with a lazy smile. Her dark make-up that contrasts so much with her blonde hair has small cracks in it already.

"So," she says in a rich voice. "Let's see what we have this year." She turns to face me, her blue eyes cool and calculating; I can see now how she managed to win her Games. "You - Ashlynn - what are your strengths?"

I am taken aback at how quickly she can forget my name, and feel a little angry. "It's Ashby," I tell her coolly. "And I can work with spears, I can make a few nets and I'm good with knives I guess."

This makes James lean forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. His black hair is styled elegantly and his light blue eyes are amused, a smile on his handsome face. "Knives, I hear?" he remarks. "I can remember a kill I made in my Games with a knife... Do you throw them or just fight with them?"

"Both, I guess," I reply; I feel a lot more relaxed talking to James than I do with Carolyn. Maybe it's because I know that girls are catty and that she won the fortieth Hunger Games by pretending that she was weak. "It's mainly a hobby at home, to be honest."

"Well, it's a hobby that could save your life," James says, nodding. "My advice is that you need to look at things like edible plants and other weapons. Even if you're not that focused on killing your enemies, you can still train."

Carolyn nods, smiles briefly, and then turns to Marshall. "Marshall Danforth - what are your strengths?"

I am unreasonably angry at the fact that one of my mentors can remember his full name when she couldn't even remember my first name. Marshall, however doesn't seem to notice, and begins to list off what he can do.

"I can lift weights, use spears, use nets and I'm good at hand-to-hand combat,"

"Good, good... There's a lot to work with there." Carolyn says. I share a look with Marshall and open my mouth to ask when we will start the private training sessions when Tani Corse walks into the carriage through the other door.

"Good, you've already started," she says, and I am struck by how different her voice is; on stage, her voice is high-pitched and girly, but now it is deeper and more serious. "I'm Tani Corse, your Capitol publicist. I'll be organising for your sponsors and maybe help to teach you how to conduct yourselves in the interviews with Caesar." I resist from rolling my eyes at her words; after growing up watching the Hunger Games, you can't help but know exactly what goes on and which people do what and when.

"Usually," she continues, pulling off her pea green wig, revealing ordinary-looking brunette hair underneath. "In a District like Four when there's two mentors, one mentor works with one Tribute, and vice versa. It would be best if you could choose now so that we can get working as soon as possible, please." With that, Tani stalks out of the carriage, pausing only to pick up a glass of green liquor on the way out. She leaves a relatively stunned silence in her wake.

"I'll work with Mr Danforth," Carolyn says immediately, smiling nastily at James, as though he has drawn the short straw. Then again, I think, compared to Marshall, he probably has.

"Then I shall work with Miss Ketcalfe here." James concludes. He doesn't look altogether unhappy about the decision. "We still have some time before we need to sleep, so Ashby, you can accompany me to the other District Four carriage. Goodnight, Marshall, Carolyn." He stands, gesturing for me to do the same, and I scurry after him towards the doors that separate this carriage from the one that Tani just entered. I hope that she isn't in there; she's just too fake for me to deal with.

When we get in there, the one thing I find different to the other carriage is that instead of the walls being grey in here, they are a light teal. I prefer it to the grey; it made the whole carriage seemed washed out. James and I take a seat opposite each other in the armchairs in front of the fireplace.

"So you're good with knives," he begins, and I sense a change in him. He is no longer so... pretentious. It seems that like now he has gotten away from Carolyn and Tani, he is more comfortable and can be himself. "Both throwing and fighting. And obviously you can fish, as we all can from District Four. You don't really look big enough to be all too good in a fight, but if we can train you up in some other weapons like axes and swords, you should be okay. Do you have any ideas about what you want to do with your group training sessions?" he asks, after scrutinising me for a moment.

I remember my father's words in the Justice Building and feel a stab of homesickness. I ignore it before answering James. "I want to work with practical things, like making fire and learning which plants I should eat and how to make shelter and such," I tell him. "Obviously I can work with fish and, to some extent, other animals, but I'm not so good with plants."

"Okay," James says, nodding. "We can make that happen. We can use replica weapons in the Training Centre that can't hurt anybody, so you can still practice with those when not in group training sessions. Carolyn and Marshall won't have much to do with us, so we won't have to worry about them. I'll need to see how good you are exactly before we come up with any strategies for the Arena itself, but it's good to know more or less what you can do beforehand."

I nod, not too sure what else to do. Now that I know what's coming, I just want to get it over with; besides, training will mean that I don't have to hold back anymore. Plus, if I somehow manage to win the Games, the skills that I learn in training could come in handy.

James checks the time on a large carriage clock on the mantelpiece of the fireplace and gets up heavily. "It's time for dinner. Believe me, you will not taste anything as good as it is in the Capitol anywhere else." I also stand up and follow him into a large dining room and am momentarily surprised that we won't be eating with Carolyn, Marshall and Tani. Oh, well; I can't say that I will miss Carolyn and Tani's company. They aren't exactly two of the nicest people to be around.

Living so close to the Capitol means that I know that the people in white who serve us and never speak are Avoxes, criminals from various Districts who have their tongues severed or sometimes cut out. These Avoxes are forced to serve the people of the Capitol, usually at the Training Centre for the Tributes and their teams. I manage to force down a spicy chicken stir-fry (and discover that I dislike spicy food greatly), a pudding made of rice with vanilla and edible flowers (I memorise them - they could be in the Arena, you never know) and a large fruit salad dish. James eats more politely, pointing out foods that I should try.

When we are finished, an Avox cleans up our dishes and James tells me to get some sleep - from now on, every day will be busy and full. Being from District Four, and therefore closer to the Capitol than some other Districts, the train ride would be much shorter than the ride for those further away from the Capitol. When I find my room, I am so physically and emotionally exhausted from the day that I fall asleep straight after taking my clothes off. I crawl into the warm and comfortable bed and drift away...

Knock, knock, knock. I groggily raise my head and see the silhouette of a person standing outside the door of my room. They were obviously trying to wake me up, so I slither out of bed and stagger across the room. I open the door a crack to see James standing there, an amused look on his face as he looks at my face. I self-consciously rub my cheek in case the imprint of the pillow is still there.

"We'll be at the Capitol in an hour and a half; you're expected to be dressed and fed ready for your prep team and your stylist to get to work, so hurry up." He pauses and grins at me. "Oh, and nice bed head, by the way." He shuts the door behind him as he walks away. I curse myself and rifle through the drawers to see if there's any clothes that I can wear for the Day. Eventually, I pull out a black and grey striped long-sleeved top and some grey trousers. An Avox with black glossy hair helpfully pulls out some wedge heels that aren't too high, which means that I can walk in them without falling over. I smile in thanks and enter the living area of the carriage that I am sharing with James. Walking through the living area, I manage to make it into the dining room just as breakfast is being served and feel my eyes widen at the sight of the amount of food on the table.

Although I am from District Four and we have more food on offer than most of the other Districts, the amount of food in front of me is unbelievable; six platters of toast, pancakes and savoury scones, half a dozen bowls of different cereal, dishes of fruits that I haven't seen before and then cups of various drinks, which I can differentiate only by the different colour of the cups. At another corner of the large table is a sizzling hot platter of cooked foods like bacon, sausage, eggs and more, along with bread rolls. After a second of being overwhelmed, I take my seat opposite James and help myself to a cooked breakfast with everything I can see on the hot plate and ask the nearest Avox for the list of which drinks are which. I choose something called a cappuccino, which appears to be coffee with milk foam on the top. I'm not really a big fan of coffee, but the cappuccino was certainly nice. After we have both finished with our breakfasts, James claps his hands together and leans over the table towards me.

"Now that that is done with, we need to discuss what you'll be doing when we get to the Training Centre," he says seriously. "Whatever you do, let the prep team do their thing. And your stylist started last year, so he's pretty open to suggestions. But keep them brief and let him do the main decisions, okay?"

I nod at him. "That's okay."

"And we'll work on more strategies and your interview when we come to them. Until then, connect with the crowd and try to please people: that way, you'll get more sponsors. The crowd love it when the Career Districts appear to like them." He gets up and begins to walk towards the living area.

I nod again and stand up aswell, following him. I look out of the windows as we pass them and see that we are approaching a dark tunnel. The world outside of the train goes darker than coal for a minute or two, before we emerge in a platform. Thousands of Capitol citizens have crowded themselves around where the train will stop; the first thing that hits me about them is the wide spectrum of colours - the platform looks like a living rainbow. The sight is burning my retinas slightly, but I blink it away and move towards a bigger window, smiling and waving at them, trying to make it look like I am a confident Tribute. Someone worth sponsoring.

Someone who might win.

James leans on a bookshelf to the left of me and grins sarcastically, hidden away from where they might see him.

"I would say that you're a natural, but I think that might insult you more than a little," he comments dryly. I pull a face at him and continue my act for the people on the platform. I could just imaging Carolyn getting Marshall to do the same.

When the train slows to a stop underneath the Training Centre, and we get off the train. They try to keep us away from the other Tributes, but you can't help but catch a glimpse of a few of them. A few stick in my mind: a tall, sinewy girl from Eleven who is smirking as though she planned to be here; a muscular and, I have to admit it, very handsome dark-haired boy from District One; a tiny blonde girl who looks to be about nine, but must be at least twelve, from District Ten. Their faces stick with me for various reasons. Mainly because this is the first glimpse of the people who might kill me in the Arena.

Marshall and I are lumped together as we wait outside the corridor with the number four stamped all over it. James and Carolyn walk off to find our floor, and neither Marshall nor I have any idea where Tani went, so we end up being called into separate rooms to meet our prep teams and stylists.

My team is comprised of three girls who all look extremely excitable, each with a different shade of lilac covering their skin. To be honest, apart from the fact that one is taller than the other two and another has blue tattoos over her arms, they all look pretty similar. And when they tell me their names ("Alicks, Marli and Arshey."), they promptly fall out of my head. It sounds cold of me to think so, but I have no interest in getting to know my prep team. They're just there to make me look pretty, after all.

Apparently, they have been told to remake me to 'Beauty Base Zero' (whatever that may mean), and this involves ridding my body of anything that they deem unneeded. Apparently, I am going to have to endure three layers of body scrub, which will strip away dead skin and dirt. Then my hair will be trimmed and my nails shaped. I am not particularly looking forward to it, especially if my stylist thinks that more needs to be done after he has seen me, but I have the feeling that I just want to get it over and done with so that I can retire to the fourth floor of the Training Centre and sleep.

Two and a half hours later, during which I take James' pretty sound advice about not stopping them, I have been scrubbed so much that it feels like my flesh might actually have been pulled off of my bones and my skin is left tingling and sore. Alicks, Marli and Arshey look me over and nod, occasionally clapping their hands together and bouncing on the spot. They remind me of toddlers, excited about something. They decide to call my stylist, who is apparently called Light. I can remember last year, when he made his debut; our Tributes were dressed in togas and carried faux tridents and nets. The horses were made to look like delicate sea creatures and the carriages were decorated wit shells and painted light greens and wispy blues. I don't know what to expect this year, seeing has he has half the amount of Tributes he had to dress, but I hope that he won't present us naked or something embarrassing like that.

Light walks into the Remake Centre and the first thing I notice is his skin: it is a deep purple, and he has bright green eyes. Teal is everywhere in his outfit, contrasting with his dyed skin and his jet black hair.

"Hello, Ashby Ketcalfe. I am Light, your stylist for this year's Games," he introduces himself. His voice is high pitched and clips randomly, the traditional Capitol way of speaking.

"It's nice to meet you," I reply politely, accepting his outstretched hand and shaking it.

"I was thinking this year that we needed a change," he ventures exuberantly, waving his hands around to exaggerate his point. "Because although you're from one of the primary Districts in Panem, you still need to make an impression. So my partner and I were thinking this - classical."

I am nonplussed and a little worried for his sanity. "Classical?" I question, not too sure what he is getting at; classical could cover anything!

"Yes, classical!" he chirps excitedly. "You in a long, sweeping gown, Marshall in a suit... We could make you seem even more like king and queen of the ocean," he fantasises dreamily.

I'll bite, I think cautiously. As long as this 'long, sweeping gown' isn't too revealing, I've got no problem with it.

"So let's try it on! We have plenty of time until dinner, so if you have any minor suggestions, we can deal with those," he continues, reaching inside a hidden closet to pull out what must be my dress, but it is covered in a white sheet. He whips the sheet off and reveals possibly the most beautiful dress I have ever seen.

It seems to be made out of a thin, gauzy material with thin and incredibly fragile-looking gold netting at the waist, fanning out over the right hand side of the skirt. The top of the dress has ornamental shells and what looks like real seaweed decorating it with what Light describes as a sweetheart neckline. The skirt is long with a slight outwards curve to it, with many layers of fabric. Sparkles are sewn into the fabric, and the actual dress is a light blue-green colour, the colour of a clear ocean. I step into it and tell Light that the corset is too loose and the skirt too long, but I have no more criticisms than that. He prods me onto a small stool and trims the hem of the dress until it is long enough to reach the floor when I am standing on flat ground, but not long enough for me to trip over. The corset is tightened and then I am told to put on a pair of three inch heels that are sea green in colour. The only reason that I can more or less hobble around is them is that being from District Four, you are required to have good balance.

Light directs me over to the dinner table and presses a small button; a hole is opened in the table and through it appears a large platter of steamed vegetables and two plates, already with chicken on; a small jug with a white sauce flecked with green also appears. I help myself to baby carrots, wilted spinach and green beans, pouring a little of the sauce over the top of it all. Using my most impeccable manners, I eat the delicious meal quickly and Light wrenches me away from my pudding (something called treacle tart that is beautiful) to apply my make-up and style my hair.

He adds some white powder to highlight my cheekbones and speckles green and blue eye shadow onto my eyelids, darker green mascara and light blue eyeliner. Next, he trims layers into my golden-brown hair and curls it, winding my hair away from my face and into an elegant, yet artfully messy bun. He announces that he has finished and we walk down to the bottom level of the Remake Centre to find Marshall and Light's partner. She never mentions her name, and I don't ask for it.

Our horses are a dark sandy colour, apparently made to represent the sea floor, and the chariot has been painted with different shades of green and blue, some white in there too. It actually looks like the ocean, surprisingly. Marshall clambers onto the chariot and offers a hand to pull me up. I accept, mainly because in these shoes, I wouldn't be able to do it on my own. Carolyn and Tani are nowhere to be seen, but James offers his luck and melts away into the stands.

The opening music is blasted out into the night air and I feel the apprehension and nervousness creep into my body as the first chariot pulls out into the streets of the Capitol. The music shakes me, reverberates right to my bones - it is loud enough to be heard all over the Capitol, and there are rumours that those in District One can hear it, too.

The next ten minutes whiz past, and suddenly, our sand-coloured horses are pulling us out into the twilight streets.

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**A/N:** So, there we go. We've got right up to the parade! Did anybody get the little reference to Mr Finnick Odair in the whole 'trident' thing? Some more reviews would be lovely!

-Lauren


	3. And so it all begins

**A/N:** I can't actually believe how quickly this story is coming out. It's just so easy to write right now! I've been trying to crank out chapter twelve of '_All The Right Reasons_' but I'm totally stuck, like, 400 words in. Oops! Oh, and I hope you all appreciate the effort that I'm putting into this fic! I've re-read The Hunger Games once already in preparation, and I'm flicking through it all the time to keep to the timeline. Also, I've had to map out all of my characters (that's four pages already) and also create a map of the Arena and also write out full plots!

**Dedication:** This chapter is dedicated to my mom, who helped me to come up the name of the head trainer. Thanks!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Hunger Games, unfortunately. If I did, I would definitely brag to my friends. Zoë, tell this to Ashleigh: I'm pretty sure she'd do the same.

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**Chapter Three**

_**And so it all begins**_

**- 'The Pretender', Foo Fighters**

It's a twenty minute ride through the streets of the Capitol before we reach City Circle, and when we first emerge from underneath the Remake Centre, I am blinded by the amount of people that are lining the streets. As on the train earlier, their outfits (and bodies) are a rainbow of different colours. Huge screens are hung at various intervals, showing everyone who can't see the streets what is going on. The cameras are definitely trained on us right now, and Marshall's deep, deep blue suit - so dark that it is almost black - contrasts with my gown perfectly. On the lapels are shells and aqua-coloured sparkles; his shirt is the colour of the sea and his hair is combed back elegantly. We definitely look better than the District Three Tributes in front of us (both of them are dressed in skimpy silver-coloured boxes to represent the fact that their District makes the electrical gadgets that Panem uses).

We turn a corner and I remember what James said on the train: connect with the crowd. I force a confident smile onto my face and wave at them every now and again, and notice Marshall is doing the same. There is a careful distance between the two of us that shows that yes, we are form the same District, but we are in no way allied.

When all twelve of the chariots stop in the City Circle, President Snow stands up to give the welcome speech. I hear it every year, and it almost never changes.

"Welcome Tributes!" he announces to the crowd and us Tributes in the chariots below. "Welcome to the Capitol. After the excitement of last year's Quarter Quell, I believe that the citizens of Panem are ready for some good, old-fashioned, ordinary Hunger Games fun. May the odds be ever in your favour!"

The crowd goes wild at his speech, and we have to pretend to be blown away by his hospitality. After that, the chariots do another lap of the City Circle before we move in the opposite direction from which we came and disappear into the Training Centre.

Immediately, the prep teams, mentors and stylists descend on all the chariots. My prep team babbles on about how sensational we looked out there while Light and his partner smooth down our outfits so that we can get into the elevator with the other Tributes. James grins at the two of us.

"You've made quite the impression! While the other Districts were out there in next to nothing, you blew them away. And to think you two were so timid when I first met you," James tells us, sighing theatrically.

I roll my eyes at him, but say nothing, noting that Marshall does the same. James and Carolyn lead us towards the elevator that will take us up to the fourth floor of the Training Centre, which will be our new home until we go off to the Arena. It's pretty easy to remember your way around the Training Centre: whatever District you come from is the floor that you stay on. There are two elevators in the Centre, so only Districts One to Six ride in this one, whereas Seven to Twelve ride in the other one, which is on the opposite side of the building. It's a tight fit, what with twelve mentors, twelve Tributes, twelve stylists and seven Capitol escorts, but the elevator is roomy and the walls are made of ornate crystal, meaning that you feel like there is more space than there really is.

The boy from District One that I saw earlier in the day is in the elevator with us, smirking around at everyone like this is a holiday for us all. One of his mentors, a truly huge guy with an ear missing, calls him Dane, which I commit to memory for later. I chat to the girl from District Six, Nix, and find that she's not actually that bad, but I keep my distance from Districts One, Two and Three.

We get off on the fourth floor and enter the main living area, which has what looks like a waterfall on one side of the wall. The colour of everything ranges from grey to pure white with cream sofas. It all looks too sterile for my tastes, but at least it's not as blindingly colourful as the people of the Capitol.

Tani Corse is sitting on one of the sofas, her pea green curly wig back in place. She has obviously been out all day because she looks exhausted, her pale white make-up cracking off her face and her dark purple lipstick fading.

"Ah, good, you're back," she says in that deep voice. She is much calmer now than she is onstage or on camera; I don't know if I like the real Tani any better, though. "I've been out all day plugging sponsors for you. Unsurprisingly, there are more than a few people willing to fund you both, seeing as you're District Four, but you've really got to appeal to more people if you want any decent or specialist gifts in the Arena at any point."

"So what, we impress them in the Training Scores and then in the interviews with Caesar Flickerman?" Marshall asks, taking a seat on the sofa. I sit beside him.

"And in the meantime, make it seem like you like the crowd. Oh, and also, make sure that you hang out with the Careers." Carolyn tells us.

"No way," I reply flatly. "I am not going around with them."

"You're a District Four; they'll let you in, and the crowd always likes a good Career," Carolyn argues.

"No," James disagrees. "The crowd likes an underdog. That's what at least two Districts go for every year, and the crowd backs them, guaranteed."

"So what do we do, James? Do we make it out like they're both weak and then unleash them like the hounds of hell?" Carolyn shouts. "No, of course we don't! I can understand that this is the first time that you've been a mentor, but this if my fifth, and in case you don't remember, I kept you alive!"

"Put them in the public eye, make them a sensation, make them seem untouchable, and they'll get sponsors," Tani interrupts. "Carolyn is right; we need to make them desirable, a united front."

"Teamwork is not an option," James hisses. "The Capitol is still mad from last year's victor using their own weapon against them!"

I think back to last year's Games. It was a Quarter Quell, and there was double the amount of Tributes in the Arena. The victor, Haymitch Abernathy, won by figuring out how to use what Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman described as a force field. From what we had all heard, he wasn't loved for it in the Capitol.

"Do you mean an alliance?" I ask. All three of them turn and look at me in surprise. "Marshall and I can pull off an alliance in training, at least."

Marshall nods, backing me up. "Ashby and I more or less live on the same street back home. We can make out like we're friends anyway and say we'll be allying ourselves to each other in the Arena."

James shakes his head. "If you don't intend to hold that claim up in the Arena, then you may as well forget it right now; if you aren't allied in there, you'll loose sponsors quicker than you'll be able to blink,"

"Side with the Careers, at least in training," Carolyn proposes, a little calmer now. "They'll get you noticed and you'll be untouchable for a while. Trust me, it worked for James here."

I look at Marshall and he looks at me; we nod in agreement.

"Okay, we'll do it and see how it goes," Marshall speaks for the two of us, and for the first time since being Reaped, I feel like somebody is on my side.

"Good. Now that's settled, let's eat," Tani says and leads us into the dining room, where a team of Avoxes in white tunics are waiting to serve us. I settle into the seat next to James, while Carolyn and Marshall sit opposite us. Tani sits at the head of the table while Light and his partner sit at the other end. For dinner, we eat a starter of smoked salmon with prawns and greens in an oily red sauce. It's something that we're used to, from District Four, and it relaxes us just that little bit. I wouldn't be surprised if one of the four of us from Four at the table caught the seafood ourselves before we got shipped off halfway across Panem. The main course is lamb shank in a meaty jus with fresh mint flecked in it, wilted spinach and bitter greens, baby peas and tiny carrots. It is only throughout pudding (a triple layered chocolate mousse in a fancy glass with coconut crème truffles) that the talk starts up again, but this time, it's mostly about strategies that came up in the Quarter Quell that we could use this year, like another of the District Twelve Tribute's use of the poisonous parts of the Arena that the Gamemakers had put in to create lethal poisonous darts for her blowpipe.

I'm so exhausted from the day that by the time I enter my quarters for the first time, I am too tired to truly appreciate how grand it is. I stumble over to the wardrobe, kicking off my shoes as I go, and attempt to figure out a way to program it to give me some clothes suitable for sleeping in. I figure it out eventually, and pull on a t-shirt and some shorts, leaving the gown on the back of a chair so as not to damage it. I crawl into the extremely large and comfortable bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

I wake up with a start the next morning, wondering what has awoken me. I roll over to see a blonde Avox girl staring at me. Yelping, I clamber out of bed away from her; she blinks and steps back.

"Don't do that again!" I demand weakly, a hand pressed over my heart. She nods, a hint of a smile on her face, and then points at the gown that I wore on the chariot last night. I assume that she means to take it back to Light, so I nod and give it to her carefully, and then continue on my way to the bathroom. There is a truly gigantic shower with a panel of at least one hundred buttons that make all different things happen; different sponges, water temperature, soaps and more. I set it to hot with rose scented bubbles that leave me feeling fully refreshed and ready for the day and the group training session ahead.

I find an outfit on my bed when I finally pull myself away from the shower, dressed in a fluffy towel. It mainly comprises of thick navy blue leggings with a lighter blue vest top and a tight-fitting black jacket. The shoes are made of leather and are surprisingly comfortable.

I figure that Light will want to style me hair by himself, so I trudge through the living area and into the dining room to find Tani at the head of the table, her pea green wig and purple lipstick in place; there is a half-eaten piece of toast in front of her and she is skimming through a stack of paperwork all titled 'DISTRICT FOUR SPONSORS'. I settle into the seat next to James, who is munching steadily through a truly humungous bowl of cereal and smile at Tani.

"We got some, then," I say conversationally, waving an Avox over. I ask for a cup of tea while I pull a plate piled high with bacon, sausage, and other delicious foods.

Tani looks up, surprised that I have pulled her out of her reverie. "Oh, yes. We just need James and Carolyn to sign these and then you're in the running," she tells me in that deep voice of hers.

"Eat up," Carolyn is telling Marshall as the two round the corner, Light and his partner not far behind them. "You've got a big day ahead of you both, what with the training sessions,"

I polish off my breakfast and drink another cup of tea while Light sets up what looks like a mobile salon on a table to the side of the room. Marshall, I can see, is in similar colours to me, and I turn to Light's partner to ask her why we're wearing blue.

"To show you're from District Four," she answers briefly. "The other Tributes will be wearing something similar, but in different colours."

I nod and fidget with the sleeve of my jacket until I finish the tea and then get pulled down into a chair by Light so that he can do my hair.

"Don't forget, Light, she's going to be training, not walking on the runway," James reminds my stylist; I prevent myself from asking exactly what a 'runway' is.

"I know," Light says dismissively, waving a hand at my mentor as if to tell him to stop talking. "So Ashby, I'm thinking a plait to keep your hair out of your eyes while you work. Maybe a little bit of make-up if you're going to be with Districts One and Two."

Damn, I had forgotten about that. I nod and smile lightly at Light, who pulls out a plethora of hair products and make-up compacts. My hair is brushed out and a type of foam is added to it, left to dry for five minutes, and then brushed out again. Then Light pulls my hair away from my face, letting the new shorter layers to fall away naturally, and plaits it to the left so that it falls over my shoulder. Next, something that smells of strawberries is sprayed onto my hair while Light dabs some mascara and brown eyeliner onto my eyes and then nods.

"My work here is done," he says grandly, waving his hands about extravagantly. "You now have my permission to go to training."

Marshall and I agree that we don't need anybody escorting us down to the Training Centre basement, especially if we want to side with the Careers, at least temporarily, so we make our own way to the elevator and press the 'BASEMENT' button. In less than a second, we are there, standing outside enormous doors that open to reveal a massive gymnasium filled to the brim with weapons and an assortment of other pointy objects. Districts One, Two and Eleven are already there, getting cloth squares with their District on them pinned to the back of their outfits, which, as Light's partner said, are more or less the same, but with different colours.

Although I quickly walk up to District One, I feel the eyes of the District Eleven girl on my back. I remember her from when we got off the Tributes train, and have to stop myself from turning around several times.

The girl Tribute from District One is called Anya, I learn, and she is shorter than me with darker hair and cold, calculating eyes. She is constantly looking to Dane, the other District One Tribute, and he seems to like ignoring her. He asks me a lot of questions about what I can do, and I try to make it seem like I have nothing to hide, but neglect to tell him of my ability to throw knives. Jenson, the District Two boy, chats to Marshall arrogantly about his ability to throw axes over long distances, while the District Two girl watches quietly. By the time the head trainer, a tall athletic man called Juke, comes over to explain what the training schedule will be, all of the Tributes are present. Still, I can feel the weight of the District Eleven girl's gaze on the back of my head.

Marshall, still chatting good-naturedly to Jenson, walks off towards the spears while Dane gestures over to the knife station.

"Let's start over there, I haven't used a knife for years," he tells me in a deep, authoritative voice. I follow him, making sure to look confident. He picks up a few knives with thin, long blades and starts talking about how he won awards for throwing knives at 'the academy' where all future Tributes are trained in Districts One and Two. Certainly, he hit's the target every time, but only gets the bulls eye twice out of the ten knives that he throws. Seemingly undeterred, he pulls the blades out of the target board and hands them to me.

"So, District Four," he begins arrogantly, leaning against the knife display as I put back the knives he used and get my own (he was using the wrong sort of knives - the ones that he used were meant more for hand-to-hand fighting than throwing). "You ever done this before?"

I tilt my head to one side, weighing up a particularly wicked-looking knife. "It's mainly a hobby at home, but I have, yes," I reply confidently, lining up the bulls eye with the first knife. I pull back my wrist and let the blade flick through the air. It hit's the bulls eye with a loud thud and Dane applauses, drawing the attention of the other Tributes towards us. I ignore them all and continue throwing the knives; six times out of ten, I hit the bulls eye.

"Not bad, District Four," he congratulates, surprised.

I turn to him and appraise him coolly. "My name is Ashby," I tell him. "And you weren't doing it right." I drop the knives I had just retrieved on the display table and walk away, over towards where the small axes that are designed for throwing are displayed. Marshall looks over from his place at the spear station and grins, shaking his head at me. I shrug and tune back into what the instructor is saying. The District Eleven girl is scrutinising me again, and I wonder what she sees in me that is so interesting.

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**A/N**: So, I've done it again. Written another chapter in a day and a half! You guys had better love me, I'm warning you. Plus, I've been flicking through the book to find out the timeline for the training sessions all day to make sure 'Dearest Enemy' sticks to the book. Review, please!

-Lauren


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